


Knights and Ladies

by Thistlerose



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why was she being so timid?  She wasn't the girl she used to be, shivering under her blankets in her cave, just listening to ghostly voices out of legends, pretending she could rely on their protection.  Here was one of her knights, in the flesh, and here was she, his equal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knights and Ladies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunasky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasky/gifts).



The wind picked up during the night. It rattled the windowpanes, caused the banners on the turrets to whip wildly about. Princess Allura lay awake listening to the wind for a long time. Safe and warm under her thick pile of blankets, the warm round bodies of the Space Mice cuddled close, she found the sound pleasant, even welcome. It reminded her of stories from her childhood, before her parents were murdered, her people enslaved by King Zarkon. Stories her mother might have told her – or possibly Nanny, it was so long ago she couldn't remember properly – about the human knights who'd sworn to protect Planet Arus, and who fought alongside the mighty robot Voltron.

In the stories, whenever a knight died, whether in honorable combat or of old age, snug in his bed, his spirit was transformed into a magnificent, ghostly lion, who prowled the countryside on winter nights like this one, and whose howl sounded just like the wind. It wasn't punishment for the knight, the way it might have been in another sort of story. He wasn't doomed to wander the planet endlessly because of some mistake made in life, some unfulfilled promise. His was not a restless spirit, just an … attentive one.

Allura had liked the stories as the child because they were romantic and because they'd made her feel less lonely in her huge bed, in her huge dark room. Even as a child, she hadn't had many friends her own age, and she had liked the idea that she was not entirely alone. After Zarkon bombed her parents' castle to ruins, Allura had sometimes lain awake in the caves far below, straining her ears for the wind. Sometimes she was certain she'd caught a whisper of it, even through the thick, rough-hewn rock curving above her. Looking back now, she had probably dreamed or imagined the sound, but it had comforted her then, let her believe that someone was still keeping watch over her and her people, that help was on its way.

In the morning, she had no memory of drifting off. She opened her eyes to warm rays of sunlight lancing through her curtains, and the antics of the Space Mice. They bounced around her, puffs of blue, pink, and lavender fur, chattering excitedly. "Why," she said around a vast, unladylike yawn that would have earned her a "tut" from Nanny, "whatever's gotten into you darlings?"

At the sound of her voice, the mice stopped bouncing and scurried to the windowsill. Shaking her head in drowsy amusement, Allura pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. The wooden floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she didn't bother looking for her slippers. She followed the mice to the window, drew the curtain aside, and glanced out.

The wind, it seemed, had been herald to a fresh snowfall. As far as Allura could see, her kingdom glistened. In the village beyond the castle walls, the roofs and chimneys looked as if they'd been dipped in sugar frosting. Still farther away, the hills were like opals in the morning light. Even the bare trees did not seem so sinister: black against the snow, they looked more like broken umbrellas than grasping, clawed hands.

She couldn't wait to get outside.

By the time she'd washed up, dressed, had breakfast, and been bundled up by Nanny in her warmest coat, scarf, gloves, and boots, the sun was quite a bit higher in the sky, and villagers were out and about. Most of the adults were going about their everyday business, though they seemed a little awestruck by the weather. Allura couldn't blame them. Having spent so many years hiding underground, snow still enchanted her, at least when it was fresh.

_Everything_ seemed fresh, she thought as she walked slowly, face tilted toward the sun, hands in her pockets. The air was dry but sweet, and made her think of powdered sugar as she inhaled deeply. The sky was a deep blue, almost lavender – a color she tended to associate more with early evening than mid-morning. The wind had lingered, but it was so much gentler than it had been last night. It played with the tasseled ends of her scarf and caused the thin icicles that clung to the eaves and the undersides of branches to chime faintly.

Some children ran across her path: two girls and three boys. They obviously didn't recognize her, perhaps because they too were bundled thickly in their warmest clothes. One of the girls – the smallest of the children – shrieked, "_I_ want to be Princess Allura! You got to be her last time!"

The other girl, whose blond curls peeked out from under her woolen cap, said rather imperiously, "But _I_ look like her!"

The first girl shot back, "Do not!"

They all stopped. Intrigued – it had never occurred to her that little girls might play at being her, and actually argue over who got the part – Allura stopped as well and pretended to be very interested in the tassels on her scarf.

One of the boys spoke up. He sounded annoyed. "Oh, come on. Not this again. Casia, just be Pidge."

"I don't _wanna_ be Pidge."

"Why not? Pidge is great! Anyway, he's the shortest and so're you."

"Pidge is a _boy_. I'm a _girl_."

"Well," said the other girl – the blond one, who obviously wasn't Casia – "I'm not a boy either!"

Casia sniffled. "It's not fair. Marna, _please_. You _always_ get to be Princess Allura."

Allura almost jumped when a familiar voice said, close to her shoulder, "I don't think this is a job for the Voltron Force."

"Keith." She was glad she had the scarf wrapped about her neck; it hid her suddenly flushed cheeks. "I know. I'm just interested in how this battle goes. You might say I have a stake in the outcome."

His chuckle was low and rich. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the white puffs of his breath. "Thinking of making a wager, maybe?"

"You sound like Lance."

She had to imagine his wounded look. For some reason – one that had little, she knew, to do with the children and their game – she found it difficult to turn and meet his eyes.

"Fine," Marna was saying, still in that superior tone, which Allura was beginning to find rather irritating, "you can be her. But you gotta kiss Tiron."

"Ew!" Casia sounded scandalized. "How come I gotta kiss him?"

"'Cause he's Keith, dummy."

Allura blinked. Beside her, Keith made a small sound and stiffened.

"Kissing boys is gross," said Casia.

"Hey!" Allura supposed the exclamation came from Tiron. By that point she'd look away from them and was studying her tassels rather determinedly.

"Well, it is," Casia insisted.

"Doesn't matter," Marna said. "Allura's gotta kiss Keith." She sounded pretty sure of her victory.

"Interesting," Keith murmured. His hand cupped Allura's elbow. "Um. D'you want to—?"

"Yes," she said at once.

In silence, they turned away from the children and walked in the opposite direction. After only a few moments, Allura felt something loosen inside her. She smiled and shook her head ruefully. "That was strange." She glanced up at him then. Her smile deepened when she saw his quizzical look. "It was a little surreal. I mean, when I was living in the caves, I'd sometimes pretend to be things I wasn't. I was so young. I couldn't think of my duty to my people. I just wanted to be someone else. Really, anyone except Princess Allura. It's a little strange to find girls are playing at being me."

Keith stopped walking. He frowned at her thoughtfully, brows cocked over his dark brown eyes. "Is it really that strange?"

She stopped as well. "You don't think so?"

He shrugged. "When I was younger, my friends and I pretended we were space explorers. Or soldiers in the Galaxy Garrison. Our heroes. What's so strange about those girls pretending to be their heroine?"

"Nothing," she replied, "when you put it that way. Then again," she went on, cocking her own eyebrow at him, "the boys weren't fighting over who got to play _you_."

"That's true. Though…" He tugged a little at the black hair that brushed his collar. "After listening to those two girls, I don't think I blame them. That Tiron's brave."

Allura cupped her hand around her mouth and said, as if she were imparting serious information, "Kissing boys is gross."

He whispered back, "So's kissing girls."

The stared at each other for several long heartbeats.

"Some girls," Keith added. His thick-soled boots crunched the snow as he shifted – nervously?

"I see." Allura dropped her hand and smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her coat. "But not all girls?"

"I—" The look he gave her said plainly, _Where are we going with this?_ She wished she had an answer. Her heart was beginning to beat more quickly, and her fingers were beginning to sweat inside her gloves.

"It's all right," she went on quickly. "Never mind. Forget that I asked."

"All right."

But he didn't sound relieved, and the tension did not leave his shoulders. Allura remembered the wind from last night. She felt it inside her now, that wildness batting at her heart, her lungs, urging her toward … something. Some promise, she thought. Of safety? Solace?

_Allura's gotta kiss Keith._

Unbidden, Marna's words echoed in her memory. She'd said it as if it were a command. More than that: a directive. The way things ought to be. Of course, Marna and her friends were just playing games. None of them knew what Allura and Keith were really like, in their minds and hearts. They just made up rules that seemed right to them because … because…

Allura faltered. Why was she being so timid? She wasn't the girl she used to be, shivering under her blankets in her cave, just listening to ghostly voices out of legends, pretending she could rely on their protection. Here was one of her knights, in the flesh, and here was she, his equal. _She_ was her planet's protector now. One of them, anyway. There was no _reason_ to be timid.

She never felt her legs move, though she was dimly aware of the snow crunching beneath her boots. She wasn't aware of having extended her arms, just the warm solid bulk of Keith's shoulders as her gloved hands grasped them. He didn't move. Then she was tilting her face back, shaking the scarf away from her chin.

She kept her eyes open as she kissed him lightly on the lips. So she saw his lashes twitch, saw his jaw tense. A single snowflake seemed to settle on her heart, chilling her.

"I—"

But the word had barely passed her lips before he was clasping her waist, pulling her close against him, and covering her mouth with his. The snowflake melted – sizzled really – as elation blossomed inside her. His mouth was so warm, his hands so firm and strong. Marna was right, Allura thought. She was a brat, but she was right. Allura's gotta kiss Keith. It was just _right_.

When they broke apart, she laughed shakily. He didn't ask her why, just held her forehead against his. At length she said, "So. Not gross?"

"Not gross at all," he agreed. Then he kissed her again.


End file.
